


Holly Jolly

by Lennelle



Series: Next of Kin [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Mental Illness, Sam Winchester and Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lennelle/pseuds/Lennelle
Summary: Sam comes home for Christmas.





	

The house hasn't looked like this in years. Maybe she went a little overboard with the miniature sleigh on the front lawn, but the Christmas lights along the gutters are a necessity. Owen used to love Christmas, like any little kid does, and he always insisted on _more_. More candy, more lights, more snow. Damn if Jody could ever refuse him when Christmas rolled around.

It never stops aching, not even for a moment, she's just become good at ignoring it. There are still mornings when she expects to find her husband sleeping beside her, there are still evenings when she almost goes into Owen's room to read him a story before bed.

Sam is just like her. He's the only one left. He lost his mother and his almost-fiance in the same horrific way, then his father, then Bobby, and now his brother and best friend. Jody knows she won't ever make up for any of these losses, just like Sam doesn't make up for her losses, but the two of them have found comfort in each other. Jody thought she'd never have a family again, and she'd been wrong about that.

She pulls into the driveway slowly, trying to get a look at Sam's reaction.

"Wow," he says simply.

"Too much?" Jody asks.

Sam pauses for a moment, then turns to her with a soft smile. "I never really had a Christmas growing up, I reckon this makes up for all of them."

"You never had Christmas?" Jody asks, incredulous. No wonder Sam hates this time of year.

"I only remember Santa coming twice, and one time he brought me a bowie knife."

"Yikes."

"Yeah. But this looks great, Jody. Really."

She pats him on the arm before getting out of the car. She retrieves his duffel from the trunk and refuses to let him carry it. He rolls his eyes at her like she's an idiot.

"You're my guest, Sam."

"I have fully functioning arms, Jody."

The bag isn't that heavy, considering Sam has barely any possessions. She ignores his comment and hooks the bag's strap over her shoulder so she can unlock the front door. Physically, Sam is a lot better. He's gained a little much-needed weight, although she still plans on feeding him up a bit more. His arms are mostly clear of self-inflicted wounds. He's even doing better mentally, despite the scare last month he's improved enough to be allowed a two week stay at Jody's for Christmas. Despite the occasional bouts of confusion or paranoia or depression, he seems much more self aware.

Jody hopes he might be ready for long-term release after New Years.

She swings the door open and ushers him inside.

"Oh wow," is the first thing he says. The inside of her home looks like Santa Clause threw up everywhere; lights lining the windows and doors, wreaths on the walls, a mountain of a tree in the corner. Jody isn't that jolly of a person, used to groan whenever Sean whipped out the mistletoe, hated Christmas shopping with a passion. Why spend so much time and money on one day that goes by far too quickly? Well, because of the grin on Owen's face when he saw presents under the tree. Because Sean would polish every leftover in the fridge before Boxing Day was over. Because they'd all sit together and watch The Grinch.

And now, because of the wonder in Sam's eyes.

"You did all this? Why?" he asks.

Jody shrugs. "Well, I haven't done the Christmas thing in a while, but since you were coming to stay I thought we could do the whole shebang."

She's trying not to blush, turning away to put the duffel on an armchair just so Sam won't see. She's suddenly wrapped in two long arms, Sam's head resting on top of hers.

"This is what I always dreamed of as a kid. Thank you."

They don't talk much after that - Jody wonders if Sam's throat is clogged just like hers is - and she shows him to the spare room and leaves him to get settled. She finds herself on the verge of tears and quickly makes her way to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face.

"Stop it," she tells herself in the mirror.

There's fear curdling in her gut. She loves Sam, truly and deeply. She's not sure what kind of love it is, she doesn't see him in the way she saw her son, certainly not the way she saw her husband. It's more than friendship, like a family member she can't place. Not a brother or a cousin or a nephew. Just Sam. The only family she has.

She's afraid of losing him, to his grief or his mind. She needs him, more than she should.

The days before Christmas are quiet. They laugh at cheesy Hallmark movies and take little trips into town. It's clear how much Sam is enjoying his freedom, he seems more alive out here than he did in the hospital. She dreads the day he has to go back.

There are moments; terrible nightmares, trailing off mid sentence, asking where Dean is, random comments that don't make sense. Little moments that remind her that Sam is still unwell. She meticulously organises his medication, sets timers exactly to the second, drives him to his afternoon appointments with the therapist. She'll see Sam get better, if it's the last thing she does.

He goes to bed early on Christmas eve, as he usually does because his pills make him tired. She checks on him five minutes later and he's out like a light, and apparently he didn't manage to pull up the covers before he passed out. She tiptoes inside and pulls the blankets up to his chest. Then, as an afterthought, she leans over to peck him on the forehead.

She's up before Sam on Christmas morning. By the time he staggers into the kitchen with half his hair sticking up and one eye still closed, breakfast is already on the table.

"Merry Christmas," Jody says.

Sam mumbles the same thing in reply and drops into the nearest seat with a yawn. Jody immediately places a glass of water and a couple of pills down next to his plate.

"Remember to eat a little something before taking those," she says. Sam grabs a waffle from the plate in the middle of the table and he takes one large bite before swallowing his pills. He's doing a lot better with his medication too, apparently no longer convinced that they're poison. Actually taking them is probably the reason why.

They have a quiet breakfast, Jody reads the paper as she waits for Sam to wake up a bit more. By 9am he's finished a plateful of food and he helps her clean up, drying the dishes she washes. She takes him by the wrist when they're done.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks when she leads him out the front door.

She holds up a finger, then unlocks the garage and swings it open. "Ta-da!"

Sam's jaw drops, then he takes a few tentative steps towards the Impala. "Is this - "

"Yours and Dean's? Yeah, it's the same one."

"How?"

"Well, when you were picked up back in the summer you didn't have the car with you. I took advantage my my sheriff status and tracked it down. It had been stuck halfway through the Sucrocorp sign before being impounded for a few months all the way across country. I bought her back and had a friend fix her up."

Sam turns to her. "I can't believe you did this."

Jody shrugs. "She's yours. I figured she should be where she belongs."

Sam pulls on the driver's side door, it creaks open as he climbs inside. He runs his hand across the dash.

"It still smells like Dean," he says, barely audible. "And the Legos are still in the vent. Everything's still here."

He laughs suddenly, a bright grin spread across his face. In the next moment, Jody is almost winded, wrapped up in Sam's arms.

"I didn't get you anything," he says.

She melts into him and smiles. "You don't need to."


End file.
